The Stolen Kiss
by The Ultimate Otaku
Summary: George Cooper, King of Thieves, may be royalty in the Dancing Dove but he is not ruler of his own heart. In love with the Prince of Tortall, he steals a kiss from Jon. Has he just ruined a good friendship? Or is there more behind Jon's anger? COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

_I know this pairing is unconventional, and I absolutely LOVE the canon pairings; I love George and Alanna, and Alanna and Jon, for that matter...but I had this idea pop into my head and just had to write it. _

_This is set when Jon is seventeen...and it does not have all the events of the book going on, because in order to make this unconventional pairing possible, I had to be unconventional. =)_

_I love this series so much! No fanfic can ever beat the books themselves. If they ever make a movie of it, I might just die of simultaneous joy and fear._

**THE STOLEN KISS**

**A Tortall fanfic**

by The Ultimate Otaku

CHAPTER ONE

Solom gazed into his mug of ale, admiring its muggy brown depths. The ale was good still, good as it had ever been at the Dancing Dove. But when the King of Thieves was brooding, the whole place seemed to get quieter, as if in respect so their Majesty could think in peace.

"I been wonderin', what's he up there thinkin' so hard about? Must be some personal decision, 'cause I got no whiff o' trouble lurkin.'" The old man stroked callused fingers through his beard thoughtfully. He turned around to look at the old, tough wooden door behind which his Majesty's quarters lay.

"Somethin' churnin' in that head o' his..."

Something was churning in George Cooper's head indeed. Or rather, _someone_.

The young Rogue drew his hands through his brown hair in frustration. Why oh why had he let it get him this far? He couldn't even believe the ideas running through his head. He paused to finger a lock of hair at the back of his head. It was about time to get his hair cut. And he needed a shave, too, he mused, brushing fingertips over the light stubble over his jaw.

George slid his booted feet off the table, and grabbed his shirt from the bed with a sigh where he had torn it off in a moment of sheer exasperation. With quick thief's fingers he buttoned the tunic back up, and tucked the hem into the waistline of a worn pair of breeches. He walked across the room to his sink, and put his hands on either side of it, staring at himself in the mirror.

The face that looked back at him was worried. A furrowed brow creased his forehead, although the hazel eyes were still bright with mischief. It was the mischief he had cooked up that was bothering his conscience. He shouldn't have sent that letter, nor bought those items, and he shouldn't care about presenting himself to...to this special someone that shouldn't be special at all in his mind.

The twenty year old forced himself to smile. Ah, there it was. Confidence! He needed it. Here was the charm that he would use to get what he wanted. The charm he needed to catch...

"Damn you, George Cooper," he told himself, "You are going crazy." He laughed, shaking his head at his own tenacity. It was a battle in his head, sometimes, between mischief and conscience. Which would he favor? Which meant more to him? Both were a part of him that he couldn't let go of, and when they intermixed it sometimes brought waves. More often than not though, his conscience helped to be fair, even in mischief. It saved from letting the mischief run away with him.

George clamped his hands down harder on the old sink, shaking it. The rickety door of the cupboard above the mirror whined in protest. When George looked back in the mirror, that same worried look was on his face. He pouted his mouth, and then stopped to muse, _I wonder what he'd think of that expression? ...Mithros, there I go again. _He groaned softly at his own folly, murmuring, "George, you never been this crazy over any girl or boy before. Why now? Mithros, why _him?_"

He lathered the soap over his jaw and took up the small, sharp knife to begin his shave. "You've already given in," he told himself with a sigh. "Don't turn back now. Just go out and do it."

Jonathan, Prince of Tortall, never knew what his friend George was up to. Most people wouldn't dare keep much from the Prince, but George did. _All the time! _It made Jon's curious side rage and laugh all at once. He liked the way George teased him, sometimes, but more often than not he hated to be in ignorance, and find out later on what George had meant.

It felt thrilling to be Jon, just Jon, on his seventeenth birthday. Usually a birthday for Jon meant a fancy ball hosted by his parents in the evening, and later, a secret party with a small group of friends. But George was a friend, too, and Jon had secretly wished George could be with them last year. So it was with delight that he had received a letter this morning, inviting him to come down to visit for the afternoon.

For once, Jon knew exactly why he was stepping into the familiar dusky warmth of the Dancing Dove. George was giving him his present on-time, this year. He wondered what made George so particularly impatient this year, as he sat down and ordered a cup of ale. The drink flowed down his throat smoothly and felt warm and pleasing in his belly. Mmm. It had felt so freeing to slip out of his court-wear earlier and into a dusty old pair of brown breeches, and a faded blue tunic.

A familiar low voice, lilting with boyish charm still, brought Jon out of his thoughts. "Ah, there you are, lad."

Jon turned around to reprimand this friend, but was caught off guard by his friend's unusual attire. The thief's usual simple outfit had been traded for a more regal get-up. A light green tunic with silver trimmings brought out the beautiful color of George's hazel eyes, and he had paired it with a dark pair of breeches that fit his lean form better, and even the buckles on his boots looked shinier. The man's usually tousled brown hair was a tad neater. He cracked a smile when he sat across from Jon.

"Don't you dare call me 'lad' anymore, George. I'm seventeen now."

"And drinking ale now too, I see."

They both laughed at that remark, knowing how George had secretly treated Jon last year with a gift of ale and other drinks. The Prince was no stranger to drinking, although it wasn't something he delighted in as much as some of his friends.

"So what's the special occasion?" Jon asked, gesturing towards George's clothes. He hid his smile in his drink, knowing the answer already.

"Today is a special day, in celebration of someone who means a lot to me," George said. "I marked it on my calendar."

There was something different in George today. It was...tenderness, or the like. Jon could see it, sense it, in the soft way George had answered, and the way his eyes looked suddenly a little more smiling. But then his gaze became wary, and he took his own mug of ale from Solom with a nod of thanks.

"Since when do thieves keep calendars?" Jon tilted his head in question, smiling. George's hand slid over the table and suddenly, strangely, that hand - it was surprisingly soft - brushed up Jon's cheek. Blue eyes widening in surprise, Jon opened his mouth to protest, when he realized George was only tucking a stray strand of black hair back behind his ear. Oh.

"We keep calendars since we started knowing what the Lord Provost's plans are and when," George replied. Those hazel eyes suddenly seemed to sparkle more. Jon wondered why. Was it just because George delighted in frustrating the Lord Provost? He winced as George's fingers flicked at the silver earring in his left ear.

"It's a fake," he lied.

For a moment George was stern, but then his booming laugh echoed all around the tavern, making Jon jump in surprise and then blush. There was no lying around George.

"Jonny, Jon, Jon...you lie around me, the master of lying? I can tell a lie when I see one. I suppose you take it out for court things, and only put it in for city bouts? Come on, now. Your gifts."

Jon allowed his friend to wrap that larger, browner hand over his and drag him up from his seat. "Gifts, George? You got me more than one?"

He had to admit to himself, he liked that. It made his cheeks burn with another flush, and he wondered what the thief had gotten him.

George bit his lip as he walked up the stairs with his friend trailing behind him. He hadn't even meant this to be anything different than usual, when he had first thought of giving Jon his presents on time. But then as thoughts of the young man whirled through his brain more and more, the idea of making this more than just a regular birthday for Jon had popped into his mind.

Ever since George had met Jon a few years ago, he had been impressed by the Prince. Even at fourteen the boy had carried himself with confidence and poise. He was like a young large cat, with a fierce glint to his eyes, but also a soft calm. He could get anything he liked, not because of his title, but because everyone loved Jon. The more George had observed and heard of Jon and how people treated him with affection, the more George began to understand _why_ everyone loved him.

The Prince was good with people. He did not try to please everyone, but he was good at judging how to please people. Not only that, he genuinely cared for those that he gave to, that he associated with. He did not treat his friends like subjects, servants, nor did he expect them to gloat in having his association. Instead, Jon treated his friends simply and from his heart, with honesty and care.

Of course, like every Prince, Jonathan had his arrogant streak. George had seen him get angry before, for bad reasons, and he had seen the Prince assume that he would get a certain treatment from somebody because he was a Prince. For the most part, though, Jon seemed pretty good at keeping a cool head.

The most alarming thing was seeing the Prince in person. You could only hear about somebody and know them from that so much. When George had first met Jon in person, then he had truly started to gain respect for the heir to the Tortall throne.

And not only that, but the young man was handsome. He had a slight hook to his nose, but George found it endearing. The Prince had fine, wavy hair that was blacker than midnight, and his blue eyes were so bright and startling they continued to steal George's breath away. George felt no scruples about age, he didn't care that the Prince was three years younger than him and had the cloud of royalty hanging over his head as a gate corralling his sexuality and virginity. The only problem in the whole equation was that Jon was a Prince, and that George had never seen any hint of attraction in Jon for the male sex (and how closely he had watched for any sign!).

The bedroom of the King of Thieves was large. In the middle of the room, pressed up against a wall, was a large bed. Beside it was a table with three chairs, and across from the table, the sink and the mirror. Two windows lay across from each other. Ladders sat propped up against the wall and outside. George had a small shelf with a few books, and in various jars sat his ear collection atop his bedside table, as a warning.

The room was rather plain. The best part of it, George thought, was the colorful tapestry on one wall, and the soft rug underfoot towards the middle of the room. The closet was in the corner by the tapestry, and there George kept his weapons. Well, really he had weapons everywhere - his boots, behind the mirror, under the rug, under the bed, under the mattress, and one or two in secret drawers in the table and bedside table.

He set out a couple bottles - wine, whiskey - on the table and the Prince sat down. George watched as Jon took in the room again. It was so simple compared to rooms at the palace, but George could tell Jon liked it. There was a special, crooked sort of smile Jon gave whenever he was especially pleased, and George saw it on his face now.

He bent down to get the gifts from under the bed and presented them to Jon one by one. There were three items.

With a laughing, boyish look on his face, Jon's slender fingers began to unwrap the presents. George stood with his hand on a chair. That smile was so...it made George's heart beat a little faster. The blue eyes were glowing and happy. George decided, he had to sit down. Just looking at Jon like this made his knees feel a little bit jelly-like. He licked his lips, holding back a groan, as he stared at the boy's lips. They were full and pink. The boy's cheeks were rosy in excitement.

He liked how Jon's hair had become a little messy and dusty while traveling through the city. It gave him a more rustic, ruffled look. But there was no denying Jon was a Prince. A couple costly looking rings decorated his fingers. His nails were clean all around and beneath, and glowed in the light with the smoothness of care. His skin was clean, and he moved with a grace that George suspected was not taught, but something the boy had been born with.

"So what do you think?"

Jon stood up and walked to stand in front of a window. He held the sword sheath in the light, admiring its fine work. It was hard, firm leather, dyed a deep red color. All along its length were carved runes of power, engraved in the smooth material.

"Who did this, George? What does it mean?" Jon's voice was quiet in awe as he ran his fingers lightly over the leather. He tested the weight by bouncing it in his hands a little, and flipped it around to inspect the width of the hole through which the sword would slide into the sheath.

"A priestess at a temple did it for me. They are runes of protection, so that in any battle you will keep control over your sword, and be able to use it with balance and precision. It keeps you fully aware of your mental faculties, complimenting your natural abilities and cleverness. Very useful."

George found himself feeling a little out of breath. He could just see Jon with a sword in his hand, sliding gracefully along a tournament strip. The Prince was known for being good with the sword. George wondered though, if the Prince moved with such balance and precision, with such fluidity, in bed? It was hard to get information on the Prince's intimate affairs, even for the King of Thieves. George could name names, but not what Jon had done with those women.

Jon turned to look at George. He had a big smile on his face, and George smiled back. That smile made him want to stand up and wrap his arms around the boy's form, and trail his thumb tenderly over those soft lips...

"George…this is…amazing. I…wow. Thank you."

George cleared his throat. "Don't thank me before you've opened them all, Jon."

With eager hands, Jon unwrapped the remaining two gifts. One was a book - a favorite of Jon's, which George had heard the Prince complain he had lost a copy of. The third gift was what appeared to be a small mirror framed in gold, hung on a golden chain.

"A mirror, George?"

"No. A token. You've always said, you wished you could know the things that I know around the court. Well, it looks like a mirror, but what it really is, is a spying glass. There's magic in it, and it allows you to see whomever you would like to see, whenever. All you have to do is use your Gift, and you can be connected to whomever, and see that person. Except, of course, people who have the Gift," he smiled.

Jon looked up and smiled at George. "So, I couldn't see you, could I, George?"

What did that mean? George shook his head. Did the Prince want to spy on him? Perhaps the Prince was curious what George did in his spare time. Well, not a whole lot. Too much of it was spent thinking of Jon, lately.

"Only those without the Gift. Those with it are shielded."

Jon gathered up his gifts in his arms, and frowned as the sheath began to slip from his arms.

"Here," George said. He put one hand over Jon's, steadying it. Then, bending down, he grabbed something with his other hand. It was a golden clip. He slid the sheath from Jonathon's arm and clicked it into the clip with a quiet snap. Kneeling down before the Prince, George slid the golden clip over the leather of Jon's belt. Mithros. He couldn't help but look at Jon, letting his gaze wander over the long, lean legs, admiring the way the boots hugged those calves. He wondered what it would be like to push his mouth over the young man's crotch...

With a shaky intake of breath, George adjusted the sheath clip on Jon's right side, making sure it snapped all the way closed. He felt a tightness in his throat, as his fingers grazed over the boy's side. He could feel the warmth of the boy's skin from underneath the light tunic. The leather of the boy's belt was nearly as fine a make as that of the sheath.

Then, not even taking a moment to get his bearings, George stood up. He knew Jon was watching him, wondering at the flush on his cheeks. Gently, he slid the boy's fingers from the golden chain, and put his own around it. His voice soft and husky, he said, "Duck your head a bit, Jon."

The Prince did as told, and George slid the golden chain over his head. When Jon lifted his head back up George could see the mirror's shape beneath Jon's tunic, resting a little below his collarbone. He wondered, what would it be like to touch Jon? Was the Prince's skin as soft as it looked? He smelled a little like a fine perfume, with a mix of city dust and tobacco.

The book got tucked into Prince Jonathan's bag. George could see the questioning look burning in the boy's eyes, but he ignored it, stepping back. He needed to stand away, so that his urges, his attraction to the boy, wouldn't show.

"There."

The boy smiled. His voice was warm and rich and soft, as he said, "Thank you, George. Your gifts are always amazing."

He turned away to leave. George felt his heart sink a little, and then mentally kicked himself. _Don't act like such a hurt puppy! You got some time with him today, you gave him his gifts. Now he's got to leave._

Just as Jon's hand fell down on the knob, Jon turned back to stare George straight in the eye. Those blue eyes demanded that George look at them, and demanded his full attention and cooperation. George was the King of Thieves, but it still made him tremble how quickly Jon could get someone to do his orders with just a glance. Only the King of Thieves could resist the control in that gaze. He was just that stubborn.

"George, was there anything else you wanted?"

The boy sincerely wanted to know. George could tell by the way pearly white teeth bit down on the boy's full lower lip. Oh, that one would be driving him mad for days, he was sure. Why did one boy have to have so much beauty in him?

Before George could even think, he found himself walking across the room to stand in front of Jon. The boy turned, and pressed his back against the door as George took a step forward, neatly sliding very close into Jon's personal space.

"There's just one more thing," George said. He felt a mischievous grin curling his mouth and forced it to be a little less obvious, to turn down a little. "While I get it, could you hold this for a moment?"

He turned around and grabbed the heavy box that sat underneath the sink. In it he carried some of his most precious possessions, and it was only because it was Jon that he even let someone else touch it. Jon had strong arms. The boy grunted under the strain, but kept the box upright and steady in his arms. George made sure the boy's fingers were wrapped tight around the edge, and then looked straight at him.

Those blue eyes were confused. "Um...Y-Yes?" It was funny to see the Prince of Tortall stuttering. There was impatience in his gaze, but mostly confusion, and he had his back pressed even more tightly against the door because of the heavy load in his arms.

"I hate to take advantage of you, with your arms full, Jon...But I just can't help it."

Jon's mouth opened a little, in surprise or dismay, and George saw that as his chance. Leaning in, he put his hands on Jon's shoulders, and then slid them down the boy's arms to rest beneath those soft hands. He closed his eyes and pressed his mouth to Jon's.

The Prince had a lovely mouth, with full lips that just begged to be bitten. George pressed his mouth harder against Jon's, and used the boy's open mouth to slide his tongue inside. With a moan he explored that hot wetness, and was surprised when the boy's tongue glided against his own for a second. Was that a response, or was Jon just trying to escape?

A loud banging on the door made Jon jump in surprise, and George slowly pulled away.

Old Solom's voice loudly split the sudden, cruel silence that permeated the room. "Not ta be interruptin', yer Majesty, but there's an important notice fer ya waitin'!"

George stepped back from Jon, his eyes searching the boy's face as he called out, "I'll get right to it, Solom. Thank you."

He waited for the old man's steps to fade away before saying, "I hope you don't begrudge me too much my little fancies, my Prince."

The boy's face was flushed. He replied hotly, "Don't call me _your_ Prince. I am not anybody's, nor do I like being called somebody's 'little fancy,' especially coming from the King of Thieves! A real king would not make his 'fancying' put someone else in - in - in a very awkward position!"

That said, Jon placed the heavy box back onto the floor, and then stormed out of the room. The door slammed, hard, and George could hear Jon's boots crashing down the stairs and out of the Dancing Dove in a hurry.

_More soon! Please tell me what you think._


	2. Chapter 2

**THE STOLEN KISS**

by The Ultimate Otaku**  
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CHAPTER TWO

_Jon's POV_  
><em>XOXOOXOXOOOXOXOXOXOXOOXOXOX<em>**  
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_How could he do this to me? How could he do this?_

Those were the first thoughts that slid into Jon's brain after George kissed him. That is, after the angry thoughts that had burned in his mind the whole way back to the Palace, and made him refuse company for half of the afternoon. Now, he was getting ready for the ball to be held in his honor, and his friends had just left the room, after making sure he was okay.

He stared at himself in the mirror, still asking that question. With a frown, he took the chain from around his neck, placing it in a box on his bedside table. What had made George do that? Or, how long had he had feelings for Jon? How could he just do it like that, sneakily, without any thought for Jon? It...It had been so...Jon whirled away from the mirror and sat down on his bed with a sigh.

It had made him feel weak. Jon hated feeling weak. He was a Prince, he was supposed to be strong, not only for himself, but for everybody else. For his people. For his parents. For his friends. He would always be the leader. George had dragged that leadership away from Jon in a second, like whipping a rug out from under Jon's feet. Control. Jon had lost his control.

Part of Jon was asking himself, _Don't you like losing the reins for a second? Didn't you say to yourself, you wished you didn't have to lead all the time, to have power all the time? George is a King, even if of only thieves. He knows how to rule and control, too. You can't expect him to just let you control him. Besides, if he had left it up to you, you wouldn't have done anything, because you didn't know how he felt. It was a secret he was keeping._

Jon didn't like it when George kept secrets from him. Now he was torn between wishing George had kept the secret and being glad that he now knew. He decided what he had hated about the kiss was how George had not given Jon a choice. He had taken the control, and the way he had strategized it all was like some sort of attack. It made Jon feel used.

As the night went on and Jon danced with a number of pretty ladies, he started to form new questions in his mind, questions that frightened him: _Did you like George's kiss? He's a friend, he's a man, but did you like the way he kissed you, the way it felt, and the way his mouth fit against yours?_

Jon tried to make it better in his head. He tried to pretend it had never happened. But the memory of it snuck up on him at the oddest moments. He remembered George's soft mouth while readying his horse for a ride. He remembered George's tongue sidling against his while bathing. He remembered George's hands on his, tenderly touching his shoulders and caressing his arms, while watching a drama performance.

There was no way to get George out of his head. The Rogue snuck inside his mind, giving him that cheeky smile.

Damn. Damn. Finally a month or so later, Jon decided_: I have to do something about this. I don't want to lose George's friendship, but this is driving me crazy. I have to know how long he's thought of me like that. I have to do something so that this aching feeling will go away. My heart is torn between anger, and sadness. The sadness is because, I feel like I have to end the friendship in order to stay...sane! In order to make sense of things, I have to just get him out of my head! But, if I end it, I'll miss his company._

Jon realized it was true. He _would_ miss George. He would miss that laugh, and the jokes, and the silent camaraderie. He would miss knowing someone who really knew his people, who lived in the thick of the city. He would miss George's hazel eyes, and that mischievous grin. George was unlike anyone Jon had ever known, and he doubted he could find a replacement.

That made him wonder, if maybe George felt the same way. Maybe George couldn't find a replacement for Jon. That made George's perspective make a little more sense in Jon's head. But he still wanted to confront his friend about the stolen kiss.

Before he could make sense of the jumble in his brain, Jon found himself standing in front of the Dancing Dove again, weeks after the kiss. He took a deep breath and stepped through the door.

_XOXOXOXOXXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXOX_

_George's POV_

_George, you old fool, look what you've done! You went and kissed the Prince of Tortall, and now you're in a right spot for it! You deserve it, you idiot. Idiot! He's only seventeen, and you a crazy fellow that he's somehow liked enough to be friends with. What were you thinking?_

He wasn't thinking. He hadn't been, and didn't, and just...his brain had flown out the window. For all the times his mother had tried to knock a grain of sense and respectability into his own head, it hadn't worked. George went with his instinct. He went with what felt right. He saw something he wanted, and tried his hardest to get it, even if it was difficult, or meant leaving someone on the wayside that wasn't a friend.

But Jon WAS a friend, and look what he had gone and done! Wrecked it all. He had scared off a valuable and sweet relationship, and all for one kiss!

Oh, but it was a kiss, a little part of George told him. _You got in one kiss. You got to stand so close to him...to touch him...to feel his lips against yours..._

George groaned and sat down on the first step of the stairs up to his room. If only his blasted mind would decide to be angry or approving. Usually he would give Jon time to cool off, and then send another letter, and then pretend nothing had ever happened. That was how George had planned to deal with it. It was calm, collected, and practical.

But love was a strange thing. It never let you follow your own rational plans. It destroyed your plans. George shook his head, laughing at himself, and then stood up. He loped over to the fireplace and lay down on the couch in front of it.

"Your Majesty, looksa who's come back. It's Jon. He says he'd like a private word with you."

George sat up and looked up at old Solom. His eyes widened. "Are you pulling my leg here, Solom? 'Cause if you are, I'll be taking one of those wrinkled old ears of yours in just a moment."

"I'm not jokin', sir. Looksa for yerself."

They both turned to look and see Jonathan striding towards them, his every step and mood that of a confident, angry wild young stallion. George let his gaze rake up and down that familiar form and let a soft sigh escape. Jon was even lovelier to look at when he was angry. His dark brow furrowed, and those eyes blazed like a blue fire, hard enough to strike George down if eyes could shoot arrows.

George stood up, and waved a hand toward his bedroom. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Jon. You asked for a private setting, this is the best I can offer you."

A smoldering heat was emitting from those eyes, it seemed. George could feel a different sort of heat building within his body as he stared at the young Prince. He resisted the urge to lick his lips, and made sure to keep his hands to himself. This was no friendly meeting that allowed hand-holding.

"I've got a better place in mind," Jonathan said. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and then he slowly uncurled them. George felt his muscles tense. Was the boy looking for a fight? He was relieved Jon hadn't brought any friends. Well, he'd let him get in a couple punches before calling somebody out to break it up.

"Sure, Jon. Lead the way."

George smiled behind Jon as the boy led them out through a side door down an empty alleyway. They stopped right after one of the ladders that led up George's bedroom window. Jon stood across the alley from George and crossed his arms.

For a few moments, the two just stared at each other. Then George said, "Well, if you're plannin' on hitting me, might as well do it now."

The boy frowned, and then let his arms fall to his sides. He sighed, and then laughed, saying, "You drive me crazy, you know that? Crazy, sometimes."

George laughed, too. So the boy wasn't looking for a fight. He felt his heart flutter a little at the thought, and then tried to squash that feeling. He needed to stop thinking of Jon like that...wanting Jon. Jon clearly did not want to be wanted.

"I could say the same thing about you, Jon."

The young Prince moved forward suddenly. He placed his hands on George's shoulders, and looked straight into George's eyes. "George, I want you to tell me...how long I've been driving you crazy."

George swallowed, and his gaze dropped down to make a mental study of the Prince's boots. "Too long," he whispered. His head drooped.

A soft, gentle touch came to his chin. Jonathon's long fingers stroked down his neck, and then up, and cupped his jaw to bring his head up. George's eyes widened as he realized how close Jon was standing to him. The Prince had a hand still on George's shoulder. There was a mere fraction of space between them. He could feel Jon's quickening breath on his face, chest brushing his.

"I'm not going to let you make me feel the fool again, George Cooper," Jonathan murmured. Then he was leaning in, and George closed his eyes, feeling his long eyelashes stutter as that soft mouth went over his.

Jon's mouth was soft, but his kiss was passionate. His lips pressed hard against George's, and his tongue slippery and wet dove into George's mouth. His heat was warm against George, his tongue a slithering, nimble thing, twisting in George's mouth, rubbing over his tongue. George groaned at the sweet sensation. His hands of their own accord slid up Jon's neck and around to grab at tufts of black hair. Jon's arms dropped down and pushed him back, back right up against the wall, pushed until there was no space between them.

George could feel Jonathan's body against his. Those long legs pressed up against his, trembling. The belt buckle grinded into George, the chest as they gasped for breath shook against his. He could feel the strength in those muscled arms, the barely-coiled tension and fury and passion within that body. It made him press back into Jon's kiss, hard and long; it made him slide his tongue over Jon's and hold the boy hard against him until he produced a low, whimpering moan. That sound made the hairs at the back of George's neck stand on end, and all the feelings he had had for Jon roared to life again, fully rejuvenated.

They pulled away from each other at the same time, gasping. Jon rested his head on George's shoulder, his panting breath making the V neckline of George's tunic flutter. George tilted his head back to stare up at the sky, gasping to catch his breath back. An excitement was building within him, and a hunger. Oh, he wanted more. _More._

"I think I've decided," Jon gasped, "that I like the way you kiss me."

A flush colored those pale cheeks prettily, and George smiled. "Well, now that's decided, does the bedroom sound like a good place?"

Jon took George's hand and dragged him away from the wall, saying, "Only if I can have a drink up there."

George laughed. "Any drink you'd like."

He watched from his position standing by his bed while Jon plunked down onto a seat and greedily drank from the cup of ale that George had poured him. He watched the smooth movement of that pale throat as Jon swallowed the strong drink. He watched everything - the way Jon tapped his fingers on the table. The way the boy shoved his boots from his feet in a messy, tangled hurry. The way Jon drew those ring-bedecked fingers through his hair, and how he sat with his legs apart. That brought even more reason for George to look, to admire the musculature of thighs, the sloping curve of the boy's buttocks, the slim calves.

George couldn't resist. He wanted to go sit in the boy's lap, but that would be going too fast, wouldn't it? So instead, he went to stand behind Jon and began to slowly, firmly massage the kinks from the Prince's tense shoulders.

"Mmm...that's good." Jon let his head loll forward and closed his eyes. He breathed in and out deeply, sighing, as George pressed a little harder.

"Oh, harder, please. I need it badly."

Just the mere suggestion in words was making George's body heat up. After a few more moments he asked hoarsely, "Is that better?"

Jon stood up and took George's hands in his. "Much better, thank you. Do you mind if I...do something a little odd?"

"I'm used to odd by now. Do your worst."

George allowed Jon to take his hands. One was placed on Jon's shoulder, and the other Jon held. Then the young man's arms slid around George's waist, and they began to dance. George tried to follow the Prince's steps, but wasn't very good at it. He never stumbled, but succeeded on stepping on the boy's toes a couple times. "Whoops."

Jon frowned at him, and then laughed. "Oh, it's fine. I guess I'm just being silly. I've gotten used to dancing with people before...doing anything with them."

The red flush on the boy's cheeks was adorable. George reached a finger out and touched the flush, stroking over the boy's cheeks and over that wonderful little hooked nose to the other cheek. _That's right, Jon is always dancing with princesses…some whom he might take to bed._

"Have you ever tried anything with men, Jon?" He had noticed the way Jon said 'people,' not 'women' or 'ladies.' It was clearly an attempt to hide the truth.

"I haven't." Ah, but there was pride in that voice. Jonathan was daring George to laugh, daring George to treat him like a baby.

"Let me show you," George said. He gently pushed Jon back to fall onto the bed and clambered after him. The Prince didn't look mighty pleased to be lying beneath George.

"Don't treat me like a woman, George," Jon hissed through his teeth.

The fire in that gaze wouldn't take any explanations or attempts to rationalize. There was no point rationalizing something so simple and carnal and natural, anyway. George lay down beside the Prince. He could feel his need gnawing at him, growing within his body. It was a fire in his lips, a heaviness to his tongue and a tremble to his thighs. He wanted this boy; he didn't really care how it went.

Just like George had thought he would, Jonathan slid over next to George, and then wordlessly straddled him. George sat up to grab the kiss as Jonathan leaned down into it, and their tongues met again to the sound of low moans. Jon's mouth was devouring, hungry and explorative. George felt his breath shorten and his need thrum as the boy's mouth sunk over his again and again. Then Jon's tongue was sliding up and down George's neck, showering a light trail of kisses. When he slid that hot wet over George's ear, the thief couldn't hold back a groan of want.

He could hear the boy's panting breath in response. George looked up as trembling fingers edged down his tunic, working at the buttons. He bit back a laugh as the boy grumbled when the tunic proved hard to pull from George's breeches.

With a gentle smile, George slid his hands over Jon's. Slowly, he curled his fingers to lie over Jon's, and directed them down, under the waistline of his breeches, to grab hold of the cloth and bring it up and over George's head. It was flung across the room, and George grinned to see Jon's eagerness.

"Now be careful with that," he murmured, as Jon wrapped his fingers around a dagger sheath that was tucked into George's breeches. He felt his cock twitch in response as the smooth metal was pulled out of his trousers. Jon's fingers, so close...George reached behind him and extracted the dagger's twin from its rest at the small of his back. It had started to hurt, pressing against him.

The boy's mouth descended to slither down George's neck again. But then he sat back up, looking at George, and his fingers played over the other man's torso.

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_Jon's POV_

Jon had not been alien to thinking of other men as attractive before. He had, but not in this manner. The way he looked at George now was different. And he could see how George looked at him...George clearly wanted him. Badly. It made a lump come in Jon's throat that was hard to push away, and he admitted that such a scorching look from the handsome thief had his heart pounding.

George _was_ handsome. Sure, he had a big nose, but his eyes were gentle and tender, a confusing myriad of colors that were somehow hazel. And his smile was inviting and charming. It made Jon want George, even though he had never wanted a man like this before. He had never wanted to touch another man like this...

Like this. Jon let his fingers cascade down from George's neck, to slide down the ridges of collarbones. He rubbed a thumb over the man's nipples, experimentally, and found it resulted in a moan. Hmm. Good. George sounded so good when he moaned. He wanted it. The lust that Jon sensed from George made him feel lustful, too. Part of Jon was so nervous, scared, that he could want a man. But each moment with George responding positively made Jon feel like this was right. It felt good.

He had touched a woman like this before. He had got this feeling of rightness with women before; why not with men? Jon slid his body down, down, and began to lick over George's body. The second his tongue was over those hard nipples George was moaning, and his hands buried in Jon's hair.

Jon smiled to himself and licked again. While he did that, he stroked George's sides softly with his fingertips. George was lean and strong, taller than Jon by only a couple inches. When Jon's tongue whispered out over George's body further down, licking harder, the man's legs suddenly moved. His left leg curled up, inward, so that his legs were squeezing around Jon's waist a little bit. And then Jon noticed the heat there, the hard length brushing up against Jon's belly and torso.

When Jon slid back over to straddle George, he felt it even more. George's cock was a waiting, wanting bulge that pressed up against Jonathan's thigh and even against his crotch a little. It made Jonathan lose his breath to feel it there. It was so strong, so thick, and so hard. He didn't know if it made him want it, or want nothing to do with it, so he just sat there, trying to regain his suddenly ragged breath.

_XOXOXOXOXOXOXXOOXOXOXOOXO_

_More soon! _

_I'm so happy people are liking this. I'd never written Tortall fic before this, and Jon was so difficult to write! It was tough to get into his head. George was easier._


	3. Chapter 3

**THE STOLEN KISS**

_CHAPTER 3_

_George's POV_

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George had almost let himself be caught up, _too _caught up, in the pleasure that Jon was giving and causing to whirl throughout his whole body. But he had to remember who this was, and how lucky he was to have Jon with him, here, in this moment.

He gently slid out from under the Prince's body, and reached out to cup the boy's soft cheeks. "Jon," he whispered, "Jon…you're beautiful."

In response, the boy twisted around to give George a soft smile, and when George reached out, Jon just let him. Those blue eyes stared at George as he let his hand fall down Jon's torso, and then grab a hold of the tunic hem and yank it up, up past scarred ribs and delicate bones, up past rounded shoulders and over the Prince's dark head. Then George let his hands wander again. He explored the soft skin, the freckles on Jon's strong arms, and the rings on those fingers. He stroked his fingertips gently down the boy's chest, and coaxed a hiss as his thumb teased a rosy nipple.

When his hands landed on Jon's belt, and his mouth began to slowly kiss Jon everywhere, Jon fell back. His moans filled the room as George kissed with his mouth open; he kissed over those firm biceps, over the long fingers, the scarred torso, licked at the hard nipples and registered a rumbling, lustful groan from deep within that pale throat.

Mmm. George was feasting here, feasting his eyes, his tongue, and his hands on Jon. When he moved to unbuckle the boy's belt Jonathan sat straight up, his hands clamping down over George's.

The wild look in Jon's eyes said, no. It was a command. George decided he couldn't ignore it this time. Jonathan was a Prince, after all, with royal blood. Many thought that George Cooper, King of Thieves, cared nothing for the law of royal birth. And maybe, were he not in love with the Prince, it would be so. But it wasn't. Jonathan was George's ruler, and would always be.

He smiled to hear the Prince's sigh, as George brushed his hands over the soft skin of those youthful cheeks, to slide up into the glossy black locks of hair.

"Your eyes remind me of starlight," he said, smiling at his prince.

Jon laughed, saying, "Why George, I didn't know you to be an expert at love poetry as well as thievery."

He traced that soft, rosy mouth, chuckling as Jon's lips trembled. Had he never had anyone touch him like this, tenderly, with love? Had all those princesses only been with him in hopes they could gain a throne? Or had they kept their hands to themselves and simply serviced the young man with their bodies?

"I don't claim to be an expert, Jon. I mean what I said. When I look at you, you're like a bright light in my vision. Your eyes are like stars. I'm not trying to lure you in, by saying it. It's the truth."

_I was trying to lure him in before…or, that was the plan, before I kissed him and made him angry. And now here he is on my bed…I'll have that perfume scent, roses and sandalwood, in my bedroom for days now…_

George slowly clambered to lay his body against the young man's. He could feel beneath him the way Jon's body wanted him, strained towards him. It was there in the ragged breath and the rumbling growl as George let his hands stroke up the Prince's thighs, over the belt and up that lean torso. But he could also feel how Jonathan shook in his arms, simultaneously needy and nervous enwrapped in his embrace.

He reveled in the moment, sliding his fingertips up and down Jon's back, up and over the boy's shoulders. All the while those bright eyes were wide, the chest rising and falling in panting rhythm. George let his body slither up higher, to press against Jon's. He was rewarded with a low moan, and those smooth fingertips clenching against his arms.

Slowly, George began to move a little bit. His thighs brushed over Jon's, just a little, and then he sunk his body down more. He bit his lip in frustration, holding himself back from wilder movements; Jon's hips fit so perfectly with his. George felt the lust thrum in his lower body, and Jon's body responded with equal eagerness, the boy's hard cock in his trousers teasing, hot and hard. George could feel it, yearning, as he lifted his body up and then pressed down again, grinding his crotch against Jon's.

"Oh…George…" The Prince's gasped response, as George moved faster, made George want to melt, melt his body into tenderness and love and lust for this beautiful creature who gasped and made the most wonderful sounds beneath him.

George felt so good above him. Jon closed his eyes, panting as the sensations rolled over him. The other man's body straddled his, that hard cock throbbing against his. He wanted to touch George. He wanted George to touch him. He wanted to see that laughing mouth slide up his thigh, lick over his cock.

The thought of it made Jon moan, and he sat up. With George watching him, Jon reached out and placed the older man's hand on his belt. "Please," he breathed.

His heart pumped with excitement, and a silly smile slid over his face, as George acquiesced. Those large, warm hands were grabbing hold of the leather and sliding it through the straps. They maneuvered him so that his legs hung over the bed, and Jon's eyes widened as the thief knelt down in front of him.

The flushed heat of lust combined with the flush of shyness on Jon's face, as George slowly stripped him. The thief's eyes glittered with a dark lust in them, as gently, he stroked his fingertips up Jon's thigh. Those fingers were callused from work, from fighting, from stealing. Jon felt a shuddering gasp shiver its way through him as that gentle, precise touch slithered up his length.

Then, the man was pulling him forward. Those exquisite hands sunk down and around, to grasp the Prince's buttocks, making Jon gasp the thief's name. Oh, Mithros! He whimpered as that succulent mouth began to feather soft bites up and down his thighs.

George was a master of observation. He noticed the way Jon trembled. He noticed how, when his fingers wrapped around Jon's cock, the boy moaned a low moan that came from deep within him. The boy's thighs were so soft, and smooth against George's tongue.

He couldn't resist anymore. With a moan of his own – finally, this! – he let his tongue slide over the boy's cock. Long fingers grasped his hair tighter now, pulling, but George didn't mind it. He pushed his tongue up and down the Prince's length, savoring the weight and taste of it, the soft heat.

What was more, the Prince was loud in his need. With his fingers tugging at George's hair, he moaned. He rocked his hips forward the more that George's tongue licked him, his soft voice cracking with lust as he murmured George's name.

That sound…the Prince, crying out his name in want…Mithros, it made it hard for George to breathe. He had wanted this for so long! The strong, young body was before him, he was kneeled before Jon as servant to master, but beneath the ministrations of his tongue, the Prince was reduced to a mere boy, groaning for satisfaction.

"Ah! George," he gasped, as George's tongue wetted the boy's length, wetted the hard, straining cock. The silky thighs rubbed over George's cheek, again and again, as he sucked soft kisses up and down his Prince's burgeoning lust.

He could feel his own heart pounding in his ears, and the sweat on his body, but George was focused on his mouth, on creating sensations that would make the boy cry out and shiver. As he sucked over the head and then finally slid the length into his mouth, he wanted to grin in success. The boy's strong hips drove and rocked against him, thrusting faster and harder.

With his hands still on the boy's buttocks, pushing over that soft skin, George gently scraped his teeth over the sensitive skin of his partner. In a low groan, the boy came, and George drank and licked the last with satisfaction.

When it was done, Jon pushed himself up onto the bed again, and held out a hand of invitation to George. Smiling, the thief took it, and lay down next to Jon.

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_Jon's POV_

Jon had never had an experience like that before. He had never felt that he really liked any of the women he had ever been with. They were beautiful, yes, but they didn't care for him. They just let him touch them, and touched him a little bit, but it didn't titillate him as much as it had with George. He knew that George cared for him, and didn't just want his body. And he felt the same for George: caring, not just lust.

No one had ever touched the Prince of Tortall's body the way George Cooper did. The sensations had rolled through Jon one after another, taking him over until he felt himself leave thoughts behind. It was so good to leave sense and thought behind, to not have to be in control. Here, he didn't have to impress or act a certain way. He was just Jon, succumbing to the beautiful sensations of George's tongue.

He shut his eyes for a moment, lying on the bed with George, and then turned over. Pleased, he smiled at the thief, and the thief smiled back. That smile was captivating, so warm and large. Jon put his mouth against the other man's neck, kissing a slow trail down, down that torso…

When he placed his hand on the belt he could hear George's panting breath and feel the heat of the other man's body. Flushed a little in shyness, Jon slowly let his fingers creep down, over that waiting crotch. He stroked over George's trousers, his fingers a little trembling.

Then, taking a deep breath, Jon slid his hand up to undo George's belt. It fell to the floor with a clank, and then Jon dragged the rest of the thief's clothes off. The King of Thieves lay before him, a purr coming from his throat and his hazel eyes half-closed in anticipation.

George was beautiful. His body was lean and firm and good, stretched across the bed like a lion. He had scars all over him from battle, across his chest and on his thighs, a light mark running from one knee down to one calf. Even with all these scars, the sight of him took Jon's breath away. George was utterly confident in his body, he lay there with openness and eagerness that made Jon feel wanted and accepted, and braver.

Jon lifted his hand and gently stroked up George's thigh, up and up, and then down, tickling the softest skin as his finger traced the other man's length. George's breath came fast as Jon then wrapped his hand around it, and began to stroke and pump.

It felt good, Jon thought. That hard length was not intimidating anymore, and he wanted it, wanted to hear George cry out in pleasure and see those hips buck.

When he put his tongue against that bare skin, it did not feel wrong or strange. The same rightness that Jon had always desired, was here, in touching George, in pleasing George, in that this was George he was with, and not someone he didn't care about.

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_George's POV_

Mithros and Goddess in heaven, George's brain had flown out the window! The boy was sloppy in his inexperience, but George enjoyed his sloppiness. He enjoyed the meandering way the boy's tongue slid from his thighs to his cock, twice. It was torture. He enjoyed the loud, wet noises that came as Jon slid his tongue up George's length. When Jon's tongue explored the head of George's cock, it was almost too much.

George knew he had let himself all go, maybe a little more than was wise. He trembled beneath Jon, and whimpered when that hot mouth sucked at him, while those smooth fingertips caressed his thighs. Then, moaning in his own lust, Jon moved his fingers to wrap around the base of George's cock, while he sunk his mouth down more, slowly, slowly taking it all in.

Groaning at the sensation, George grabbed thick tufts of dark hair in his hands, murmuring, "Jon…consider me yours."

The young Prince left George's cock for a moment, and turned his head so that his face pressed against George's belly. The hot panting of his breath was tantalizing against the head of George's cock.

"George, I…I don't know what to say to that. Except, I…" He lifted his dark head up, and when he looked at George he was smiling widely. "I don't think I've ever wanted anyone this much. You've stolen me, just like you steal everything."

George opened his mouth to protest – he didn't always steal, and certainly not _everything_ – but then that hot mouth sunk over him again, and he was gone. Jon's moved faster now, his tongue lashing all around George's cock, and when George groaned in appreciation he even dared to use his teeth, scraping just a little.

"Mithros! Jon, oh…"

And like that, George couldn't help but thrust his hips up, and Jon invited it – actually _invited_ in, and moved even more vigorously, sucking with that hot mouth faster. George clenched his hands against the boy's shoulders, hard enough to bruise. With a gasp, he came. Jon swallowed, and caught the left over drops with a swipe of his tongue.

The Prince lifted himself up proudly before George, grinning, and George laughed. "You continue to amaze me, my dear," he murmured, and Jon fell into his arms to press his face into George's neck with a sort of purr.

They lay like that in delicious silence and warmth with their hard, strong bodies against each other. George felt like if the world were to end right here, right now, he wouldn't mind. Forget anyone else he had ever laid with. Forget his Kingdom, his thief followers, his enemies, the Provost, the wild countryside that he occasionally visited, forget it all…Jon was all he needed, and Jon was all he wanted.

Smiling to himself, he stroked his fingers through Jonathan's thick dark hair. He began to hum an old tune to himself, a fishing shanty he had heard at the docks of the ocean on a wild traveling thieving escapade years ago. At the same time, his fingers reached the back of Jon's neck, and from there he let his hand stroke down the young man's spine a little. That made Jon shiver, and George bit back a moan as just the sensation of the Prince's body trembling against his was intoxicating. He was sensitive to touch, he had always been, and the touch of the Prince's body combined with the memories of Jon's voice made him itch to go wild again. He wanted more, and yet he wanted to lie here contentedly forever.

Jon arched up from his seeming slumber against George's body, and his starlight eyes gazed at George with love. He had said George had stolen him, but George knew the truth. Jonathan had stolen his heart long ago, and now, in this intimacy and wild lust, Jon had unknowingly given George his heart back. They shared it now between them, and George hoped they would continue to share – bodies, minds, hearts, all of it, he wanted an all-encompassing thing with Jon. His heart beat faster as he thought of this. What was he thinking? Wasn't just having Jon's body enough?

Jon saw the trouble in his eyes, and frowned, and George murmured in reply to the unspoken question, "It's nothing. I simply wish you never had to leave."

He wrapped the Prince in his arms, breathing in the sweet scent of the Prince's hair. Then Jon's lips were on him – sprinkling kisses over his chest, up his arms, across his jaw to ghost over his lips. George gasped at the sensation, and then Jon was kissing him again. His kiss was fierce, wanting, healing, and George knew that that was how Jon meant it to be. It said: _I want you and I need you, too._

They basked in the heat and joy of each others' tongues, and then Jon fell back, and with a smile on his face and his eyes closed, he said, "I've never had anything like this." Then he became more serious, and the smile left him. "I've never had someone want me…and feel so much for me…at the same time." His voice trembled. George felt guilty for burdening the Prince, who already had so many responsibilities, with his feelings. This was more than just a lustful encounter, and they both knew it.

But why trouble over that now? George didn't want Jon to be troubled. With a wicked grin, he began to kiss and lick his way down the Prince's body, down that strong chest, over the belly, over the hardening, sweet cock, down past the balls, and when his tongue finally dove between Jon's legs, the Prince stiffened. George felt Jon's tension rolling from him, and the pale thighs clamped on his head, but the Prince said nothing, so George pushed his tongue deeper into the young man's entrance, deeper, stronger, faster.

He heard Jon taking in hitched breaths, and then Jon's fingers were pulling his hair, and that firm, beautiful body was pushing upward towards George's tongue, begging for it. George thrust his tongue in short bursts, going in and then out, and in response, a loud moan came from Jonathan. He began to whimper as George's tongue licked into him deep and whirling fast, and he gasped, "George, George," in a hoarse voice, when George slipped a slick finger into the boy.

_XOXOOXOOXOXOXOXOOXOXOXOXOXXO_

_More soon! Please keep on with the reviews. Is it just too strange to imagine these two together? Or does it work? Is it hot? Sorry if I laid on the cheese a bit too much...=3_


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you all SO MUCH for the reviews! I love them! Please keep them coming. And here is the 4th and final chapter...

**THE STOLEN KISS**

_CHAPTER FOUR_

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_George's POV _**  
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With his tongue still pressing, he pushed his finger in deeper, widening, waiting. Jonathan seemed to enjoy it all; he was beyond questions and worries and hesitancy. When George added a second slick finger into his body, Jon's body clenched down over the two fingers, and George licked his lips. He stared at his Prince laid out before him as his fingers thrust in.

Jon was splayed out on the bed and his arms had reached back, his hands gripping pillows desperately. His mouth was pinkened more from biting it, and his face was flushed. The muscles of his arms and neck were tense, beaded in sweat. His strong thighs clenched down over George occasionally, and the sweet, hot flesh that George's fingers were buried in also clenched around him. Loud and unable to stop moving, the Prince was like a wild stallion, tossing his head, pushing against George.

George didn't think he could take much more. He took his fingers from Jon's body, and widened the entrance more with his tongue. Indulging himself, and driving the Prince more to the edge, he let one hand fist up the boy's length. At this move, Jon lifted his head up, and he looked up at George through bright eyes half-closed in lust. "George," he barked, angry and yet unable to stop his trembling of desire, "You're torturing me on purpose."

George tried to stop his laughter by biting his cheek, but he couldn't help it. He laughed loudly. Then he leaned in to look closer at the Prince's beautiful, hot glare and whispered, "You know you like it. You like to lose control, my darling, because you usually have so much of it."

Jon's beautiful mouth twisted, and he said indignantly, "I do not. I do not like to lose control. I am like someone who has been stolen from, and you are like the gloating thief." He sounded angry, but deep in that anger was laughter, and George knew that he had hit some place in Jon where, deep down, his words were true. Jon just didn't like to admit it to himself.

George pushed his body down over Jon's, and both of them groaned at the sweet contact. With his cock heavy and hard against Jonathan's thigh, he drawled, "Well, my Prince, are you going to punish me for my thieving, dishonest ways?"

He gasped, caught off guard, as Jon's hand reached down and grasped his cock. The boy's finger pressed hard against his tender skin, and George liked it. Jon's thumb roved over the head of his cock, and George bit back a sound. He continued to stare at Jon as Jon stared at him.

"Maybe I will," Jon said, but the words were an after statement, because his fingers on George's cock were an absolute torture. Even better was the way he seemed distracted by the sight of George's body. His blue gaze drifted down from George's face to where his hand was teasing George's member. His tongue dipped out to moisten his lips, and George felt his cock leap in Jon's hand at the sight. The Prince smirked.

With a grin that was somewhat wicked, George took hold of Jon's hand and took it from his body. He pressed the hand down into the bed, and did the same with Jon's other hand. Fully straddling the young man, George prepared to enter him. Jon's gaze stared up at him in surprise for a second, and then as George continued to stare at him, asking, he said, "Do it." His voice was firm and commanding. George wanted to listen to it. His body thrummed with desire to take Jon. But he waited, and then forced himself to say, "Are you sure?"

This was the Prince of Tortall, and there was only one. He was the heir to the throne, and it was more than just a light thing to allow George such power and owning of his body…George wondered about Jon's heart. Could he dare to have that and take this beautiful boy before him?

Jonathan licked his lips. He pressed his body up towards George, and placed his smooth, delicate hands on George's jutting hips. Lovingly, he placed a kiss against George's neck, and whispered, "Please."

George sat, taking it in. But his mind couldn't quite work. There was too much elation and lust inside of him. Jon laid back and he looked straight at George, and said again, stronger this time, "Please."

The Prince had not only commanded him, but asked him. And in that one kiss, there was more love there than George felt he had ever seen between Jon and anyone else. He hadn't seen Jon with family, only with friends, but nevertheless…that kiss was something special, and it spoke volumes of Jon's affection for him.

With a murmur of Jon's name, George slipped his cock deep and fast into Jon's body. The young man's thighs clenched against him; his hands tightened on the bedsheets; a sound came from his throat, a grunt, and his eyelashes fluttered over his porcelain cheeks. George did it again, slower this time, and a sigh came from his Prince's lips.

When George did it a third time, and a fourth, Jon murmured, "I didn't know it would be…like this."

"Like what?" George was panting now. He pressed harder into Jonathan, and the Prince made a beautiful, sweet moaning sound.

"So…forceful, but also…" Jonathan moaned as George pressed in hard again, and now the King of Thieves laid his body tight against his lover's. "You make it sweet, too, George."

With a growl, George planted a kiss on Jonathan's mouth, and then drew back, saying, "I think the sweetness part of it is you, not me."

He had started a slow but steady tempo. Beneath him, Jon's body was hot, hard, trembling. He bit his mouth, he licked his lips, and when George leaned down again he wrapped his arms around George's torso. On the next thrust, he pushed up in response to George pushing down. The King of Thieves groaned in delight. He began to push himself deeper in the boy, harder, faster. God it was good, so good he was losing himself. The boy was so tight around him, clenching against his cock; those hard, sweaty thighs rubbed against his, and the soft hands scraped and grabbed at his back. Finally they sidled down, and George moaned as Jonathan's hands gripped his backside.

The Prince pushed his hand hard against George's buttocks, urging him to go deeper, and he murmured, "Oh faster George…please," in a choked voice. When George moved faster, a keening low animal groan came from Jon's throat, and that was almost enough to send George over the edge. Jonathan began to mimic his moves against him, thrusting strong hips upward, and at the same time his fingernails bit into the tender skin of George's buttocks, and his hard cock jutted against George's belly with every thrust.

George was moving faster now, every thrust hard, and he began to make his own wild noises. His hands were holding the Prince's wrists so hard they might bruise, and he tried to let go his grip, but he couldn't. He began to taste Jon at the same time as he thrust – a nip at Jon's earlobe, a suckling kiss at his neck, and long, languorous licks at the nipples. Jon whimpered beneath him, and his hands moved to bury in George's hair and massage his scalp. They lingered like that, as George made his thrusts slow and gentle and long – agonizingly long, and he dared not pull his cock all the way out, for fear he wouldn't get the joy of coming inside Jon's body. Then Jon kissed him, and the kiss was so slow, so tender, George wanted to weep.

Jon's hand moved down to his arm, and he pushed fingertips tight against George's skin, saying, "Wild again, George. I want to see you lose yourself. For me."

The request was barely made, and George was fulfilling it. He pushed himself harder, longer in Jon's body, and his cock throbbed with desire, and his moans filled the room. He was hitting that beautiful, tender spot in Jon, deep within his body, and with every hit, a wild cry came from Jon's mouth. Sometimes Jon yelled George's name. Sometimes it was incoherent, animalistic beauty of sound loud in George's ear.

George pounded hard and short into Jon next, so fast that he was bouncing over Jon, and the boy's hard, pleading cock was leaving trails of precome silky against George's belly. George growled and groaned against Jon with every thrust, using all of his muscles. At the same time, his fingers caressed and reveled in touching Jon – his hair, his cheek, the sweat on his throat, the hard pink nipples erect and sensitive, and then his big hand wrapped around Jon's aching cock, and as he continued to thrust he played Jon's cock, his nimble fingers gliding over it like a fiddle. Then his thumb simply played at the tip. Beneath him, Jon was making crooning, long sounds of lust, and each one made George go crazy more and more. His body rippled in pleasure, and he took in the scents of Jon's body, sweat and sweet perfume, and his body ached to feel the hardness and softness of Jon, and his thumb roved delightedly over Jon's cock.

"Oh please George please more, more," Jon gasped, and George grinned. He knew he had lost himself for Jon, but Jon was losing himself in lust for George, too. He had never thought he would hear the proud prince of Tortall beg him like that.

He pushed himself deep within Jon. Remaining there, he leaned over. With the tip of Jon's cock in his palm, and his rough callused skin rubbing that sweet hard ache, he licked over Jonathan's ear. The Prince whimpered. Then George whispered hot in Jon's ear, "More what? Tell me what you want."

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_Jon's POV_

Jon could barely think. He didn't think he had ever wanted anything this much. He had never felt himself so out of control. It had frightened him at first, how strong George was inside him, but he hadn't wanted to admit it. Then it had become good…and piece by piece, George was tearing his control apart. What surprised Jonathan most was that he discovered, he liked it. He liked the way George tore his control, because in response, George lost himself to Jon.

Jon could tell, in the way George moved against him, in the way George kissed him, in the way George touched him, that George had wanted this for a very long time. Deep somewhere in his rational mind, he wondered how George had hid it so long, and he was sad to have caused George agony and pain. But in his body, oh he was thrilled. He was thrilled to be loved and touched with so much need. Jon was a prince. It was ingrained in him to help people, to satisfy them; usually this came from a position of authority and superiority, but here he was satisfying George completely, without any ounce of self-control to his name.

George had him screaming and making sounds he didn't think he was capable of. He wanted George's body pounding over him, into him. He wanted that aching, throbbing cock. It was so powerful within him, so needy. That spot George hit…Mithros and Goddess! There was nothing like it. He wanted more and more George gave him, and now he shivered and trembled in George's arms, with that damnable thief's hands on him, and George's delicious cock buried within him.

What did he want more of? All of it! He wanted George to pound hard and fast in him again. He wanted that fullness of George within him to never stop. He wanted George to stop teasing with his hand on Jon's cock, but at the same time he wanted that to never stop, either. He wished George's tongue could be on his cock right now, but he didn't want George's hard member to leave his body. It felt good there, strong and powerful, but it also felt like an equal.

He was an equal to George, even though rationally this made no sense; in this moment, they were equals, king to king, or prince to prince; certainly man to man. It was so good. Yet it was also loss of being a man; they were animals, they were madmen, they were jesters, they were like water flowing together down one forceful bubbling stream. Their bodies moved sinuously and gracefully, harsh and demanding, soft, then hard, hot, always hot. There was no coolness to George's body sliding in sweat against Jonathan. It was good.

"More of all of it," Jon gasped, "More you…I want it to keep going forever." He looked up at George, hard and strong, or he tried to; his chest heaved up and down in panting breaths, and if George drifted his thumb softly over the head of Jon's cock one more time, Jon might explode.

George laughed. "Jon, I don't think this will be forever…'cause I'm about to burst all over."

Jon laughed at George's ability to switch moods. But there was truth in statement. He could feel George tight within him. George was going to blow his load soon, too. It was this aching, sweet, tight need in them both, closing in on them.

"Keep going," he gasped, "please."

George's eyes closed, and he had a tender smile on his face. He looked so satisfied, even though Jon knew he was going crazy just like he was.

They began again, moving in time to each other, and when George was pounding so hard and fast that Jon had pleasure in every part of him and his fingers positively tingled and he was screaming something unintelligible, he came. It was hard and long, splurting over George's belly, and at the same time George's pleasure shot within him, and it felt so good to have that wet and heat in him; it was nothing like Jon had ever experienced before. And as he came this glorious low moan came from George, which had Jon shivering in ecstasy to hear it.

Finished, they stared at each other, and then George slumped to lie over Jon. Jon found that he liked the heat. They panted, trying to catch their breath. George was a delicious, hard heat above him. His hips seemed to fit perfectly in line with Jon's. When he pulled out of Jon, Jon felt suddenly empty, but as if he knew Jon would feel like this, George pressed a kiss to Jonathan's jaw in comfort. They lay as one body, breathing fast and then finally regaining breath, and it was as if as they breathed, they breathed themselves into a new place, a new time.

And it was new. And it was different. Jon was now Jon with George. He wasn't just Jon. He wasn't just Prince of Tortall. What had begun as a stolen kiss, had transformed them into something else. He wasn't sure what would happen next. But he knew it would be good, it would be right, because George was with him.

~ THE END

_XOOXOXOOXOXOXOXOX_

_Review, please? =3_


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